


Husbanding England

by glorious_clio



Series: Husbanding England [1]
Category: Robin Hood (BBC 2006)
Genre: Adventure, F/M, Gen, Romance, some other stuff happens too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-15
Updated: 2008-01-15
Packaged: 2020-10-11 13:02:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20546591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glorious_clio/pseuds/glorious_clio
Summary: Decidedly AU version of the season two finale. And a more historically accurate version of events. Lots of adventure, tons of fluff, and rated T. Don't read it if you haven't seen it, unless you want to be spoiled.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am choosing to ignore the ending of the second season, and all subsequent episodes in which there is no Marian. Because Robin Hood without Maid Marian is no Robin Hood at all.
> 
> I own nothing. And I'm throwing the BBC's definition of canon joyously to the four winds. Also, the writers of the show obviously haven't researched at all to write the series. I did some research, and tried to work within actual historical facts and the timeline they gave us. So there are mistakes on both counts. I am well aware of this. This is purely for fun. I don't even care if you review. Enjoy!
> 
> husbanding;  
1)To use sparingly or economically; conserve, 2) Archaic To find a husband for. 3) British A manager or steward, as of a household.

"All this time, I've been working for England. I cannot let you kill  _ England _ !" Marian stepped between Guy and King Richard.

"Marian, get out of the way!" Guy yelled, brandishing his sword. His voice echoed through the square.

"You'll have to kill me first," she nearly whispered, though he heard her as clearly as if she had yelled.

"No. We're going to get out of this. I'm going to do this thing, and then I will have power beyond measure."

She laughed quietly, but caught herself. He did have a sword after all. Still, it amused her that he could not name what he was about to do. He didn't have to. They both knew what it was. Murder.  _ Treason _ .

Suddenly, behind him, she saw Allan-A-Dale running into the square, a battle-cry flying from his dry lips. Guy turned in disbelief, and moved into a defensive pose. Marian ran back across the square and knelt at her king's side. He didn't seem mortally wounded; the arrow missed his heart. Seeing he was alive, she turned without a word to him to the battle across the square.

Allan was good with a sword, but unfortunately for him, Guy was better. Allan was soon backed into a corner. Tears sprang into Marian's eyes as she watched.

Allan raised his sword in his defense, but the truth was, he was hot and tired, he felt ill from the heat and exertion. He did not have the strength to continue the duel. Then Marian noticed Robin, Much and Djaq run into the square from one side, and the sheriff from another. Allan, upon seeing them, said loudly for everyone's benefit, "This is the side my bread is buttered, Gis."

At the hated nickname, given to him out of cruelty by the sheriff, Guy stabbed the man. His aim was true, and Allan was down.

Robin let out a war-cry, it was savage and inhuman. Shivers raced up and down Marian's spine despite the heat of the midday sun. She watched, helpless, as the drama unfolded. Much, seeing the sheriff trying to make his escape, raced after him, full tilt. They were soon out of sight.

Djaq ran to her, and more importantly to King Richard. She pulled out the arrow quickly, causing the King to shout out in pain. She collected some water from the fountain and set about tending to the wound as quickly as she could, all the while he was muttering in French about women and Saracens. Marian's eyes were drawn back to the fight between Robin and Guy.

They were equally matched; despite Robin being exhausted from many battles previous, and from the heat, his muscles remembered this blistering place and how to respond. Guy was dealing with the heat for only the second time. They lunged and parried and taunted the other. Everyone in that courtyard knew that one of them would have to die. This was their final battle, neither would show quarter.

They had left behind Allan in their duel, Djaq and the recently arrived Will and Little John were giving him what Christian comfort they could. Even the King had made his way over and thanked him. Marian regarded him as kindly as she could, and said a rapid  _ Ave Maria _ for him, but her heart was elsewhere.

Suddenly, Robin stumbled and fell to his back. Guy lunged.

Robin deflected the blow with his hand, the blade drew blood from his palm. He winced, but Guy was caught off guard; his sword sank into the soft sand. Robin seized his chance; he leapt up, and in one movement, beheaded Guy. Marian closed her eyes as his head rolled away from his body. She, of course, was grateful that Robin had not perished, but to see this carnage before her was almost too much. The sand was soaked with blood.

The next thing she knew, Robin's arms were around her. He smelled of horses and leather, of sweat and sand and blood. It almost nauseated her, but underneath it she could still smell  _ him _ . She felt the tears stream down her face, the only moisture in this cruel, dry place. It was finished, she knew instinctively. She felt Robin shaking with his own sobs, tears that would never fall, but it was a comfort to know he felt the same way she did. Marian looked up into his eyes. He brushed a tear away from her cheek.

"I need to say good-bye to Allan."

She nodded. "Absolutely."

With one arm still around her, they approached the dying man. The others moved aside. Robin shook his hand; Marian kissed it.

"I'm not being funny, but I'd say you owe me one," he said breathlessly.

Robin nodded. "I owe you my life. I would give it to you if I could."

"Is Gis dead?" Allan asked, nearly hissing the three syllables in his pain.

"Yes."

It was Marian who spoke.

"That's enough, then." He paused, catching his breath. He was losing his focus. Marian still had his hand.

"Thank you," she mewed into his ear.

He nodded curtly, using the last of his strength. His eyes closed and he exhaled for the last time.

o0O0o

During all the drama of the fight, Much had caught up with the sheriff. He brought him down easily, again the heat of the day working to their advantage. The sheriff was bound, gagged and dragged to the King's camp. He was thrown unceremoniously into a tent that no one seemed to be using. Two other tents were found, a small one for Robin and his bride, and a larger one for his loyal men.

Cuts were inspected, cleaned, and bandaged by Djaq. They cleaned up as best as they could, and dinner was eaten. At dusk, after the heat had dissipated somewhat, they buried the dead. Carter and Allan lay next to each other. Guy of Gisbourne also received a Christian burial, albeit some distance away from two heroes.

Marian and Robin retired to their tent earlier than the others. Robin had hardly tied the flap behind them before Marian collapsed from exhaustion, relief, happiness and grief onto her bedroll. She began to cry quietly into her pillow. In an instant, Robin had crossed the small tent and gathered her in his arms.

He didn't quiet know what to say. He wanted to comfort her, and he felt that they were experiencing the same emotions, but didn't know what would soothe her. He didn't know how to comfort himself.

Except to hold her.

He rested his cheek on top of her head, and gently rocked her back and forth. She had not cried like this, ever, in his memory. Not even when her father died. It seemed to him that every drop of moisture was leaking through her eyes and nose onto his tunic. He didn't mind. Far from it.

Suddenly a thought entered his head, and despite everything, it bubbled up out his throat and manifested itself in laughter.

Marian looked up at him in confusion. Her face was red from her tears. She was shivering slightly. The sun had set a while ago, taking its intense heat with it. "What is so funny, Robin of Locksley?" she asked, sounding like she had a slight cold.

He embraced her again, "This is not exactly how I pictured our wedding night."

She snorted into his chest. "Nor I, to be honest. Though I do not think we are actually married. There was no priest. No blessing."

This time he pulled away. "Do you feel any less married to me?"

She gazed into his eyes and said frankly, "No. My heart has always been married to yours."

He kissed her, she shivered at his touch. Pulling back, he said, "I will wait, to, um, claim my rights," he tried awkwardly, "until you are feeling, er, better."

It was her turn to laugh. "You are very chivalrous, darling husband, but honestly after today's events, I would rather not."

His smile met hers, and melted on her red lips. Hand met hand, body joined with body, heartbeat matched erratic heartbeat, and soul married soul.

o0O0o

The dawn broke slowly over the barren land. It was too hot for it, or anything else, to move any faster. Already it was hot- a heavy heat that weighs down men and exhausts the women.

Marian awoke to find Robin quietly creeping around the tent, looking for the clothes that he discarded so carelessly last night.

"Sneaking back to Sherwood, are we?" she asked, propping herself up on one elbow. She winced slightly. Her hips were sore from last night's exertions. And now she blushed to think of them. Thankfully, he did not seem to notice.

He chuckled and sat down next to her on her bedroll. "Not exactly, my love. I was going to ask permission first, so I do not know if that is considered sneaking…" His hand was in her hair, stroking back unruly curls.

"Who's permission were you planning on asking?"

"The King's."

She pulled back, her hair slid out of his grasp and his hand hung suspended between them. "You do not ask your wife's permission? Perhaps she would like to stay in Palastine?"

Robin knew she was teasing, by the delicate lift of her chin and the way her eyes gleamed. He knew so much about this woman, but also knew that there was much more to discover. He decided to play along.

"Woe to her, she agreed to love, honor, and  _ obey _ ."

She made to hit him, but instead somehow ended up in an embrace. Slightly muffled against his chest, she mumbled, "I said cherish, not  _ obey _ ."

"How silly of you to forget your vow and say mine instead. And I was not aware you liked desert climes. Perhaps I was too hasty in marrying you?"

Marian pushed herself off his chest, laughing. "Robin, I think I have had the longest courting period out of any couple I know."

He laughed and kissed her. After a few minutes at this activity, Robin vaguely realized that it was not in his best interest to keep the King waiting. But Marian pulled away first.

"Do you think there is any chance of a bath?"

"No. Any and all water is used for drinking. I am afraid you,  _ we _ , we will have to wait until we get to the coast." He began looking for his boots again.

"Wait for me, I will come with you."

"Yes, but hurry."

As it happened, she was ready before him. He still could not find one of his boots. Marian helped him, and they located it underneath an earlier disposed jacket.

Robin opened the flap and the tent was suddenly flooded with light and heat.

"Is it always this hot?" Marian asked, though she knew the answer.

"No. Sometimes it is hotter, and at night it is freezing."

"Wonderful place for a honeymoon," she mumbled under her breath.

Robin reached for her hand. "We have an ocean cruise ahead of us, Lady Marian. I think you will have a very long and adventurous honeymoon."

She blushed, again remembering last night. "Well, we are certainly off to a good start." It was Robin's turn to flush. They had reached the King's tent. The guards let them in without a word.

The King rose to meet them, Robin knelt, Marian found it in her to curtsy.

"Welcome my friends. Lady Marian," he said, kissing her hand, "Earl of Huntington," he said, bowing to Robin.

"My Lord, that is currently Guy of Gisbourne's title."

"Is it? Well, he is dead, so it is yours again. He did not have a legitimate heir, did he?"

Marian spoke. "No." The word tasted of bitterness.

The King laughed. "Did he make overtures?"

"To say the least," said Robin. "But we are not here to discuss the past. We want to discuss the future."

"Home to merry old England?"

"Yes."

They settled themselves on cushions on the floor. The King sighed. "The truth is, I want to return with you. I am meeting Saladin tomorrow. No one knows of this except now you two. I want to go home, to Aquitaine. Though I must visit my dear little brother in London first."

"It is good that you are working for peace." Robin said.

"Yes, but between you and me, I do not know what to do about Prince John, his death could mean civil war, more bloodshed."

Robin and the King were deep in thought, when Marian spoke up. "Perhaps you could forgive him?"

They looked at her incredulously. "Forgive treason?" the King asked.

"Well yes. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Your majesty yet has no heir, name Prince John as your heir. Then perhaps he will not have to plot to steal your crown, he can hope to acquire it himself. And you can return to Aquitaine."

The King's eyes found Robins. "Friend you know I have always valued your wisdom. You have truly found a kindred soul in Marian; the Penelope to your Odysseus. Lady Marian," he said turning to her, "I will take your advice."

Marian blushed, "Thank you, my Lord."

Robin squeezed her hand and asked the King, "And of the Sheriff?"

"Vaisey will get a trial, but he will probably hang. I will wait until we return. In the meantime, he is in my custody."

"Where do you meet Saladin?"

"Tomorrow, at Bassam's house in Acre. Will you come along, Robin? I would ask your lovely wife, but I am afraid a woman at a peace conference will not go over well."

"Yes, of course I will come."

"My motives are selfish. I wish to leave with you and your men. Would they mind waiting for me?"

"I will have to ask them." Marian squeezed his had that was still holding hers. He turned to face her. "Would you mind so terribly much if we stayed?"

"No. I mean, I will mind, but if it is for peace, I will stay with you."

Robin nodded. "I will ask my men. You will know within the hour."

The King nodded also. Robin and Marian left the tent to find their loyal outlaws.


	2. Chapter 2

Everyone's face fell when Robin voiced the plan to stay and help with the peace treaty, but no one disagreed with him. They were tired and homesick, but so was Marian, and especially Robin. Robin, being loyal to the King, felt that this was the best course of action. The outlaws, being loyal to Robin, knew that he would leave if they asked him to, but they did not want to ask him to.

So they stayed.

In his gratitude, King Richard had them pardoned from all of their crimes, both before and after Robin's arrival and organization. In truth, he would have pardoned the loyal souls upon their return to England, but he felt he owed them now. After all, if even one of them had spoken up in protest, Robin would have left within the hour.

But the peace treaties were going better than expected. The negotiating party's nightly returns always brought good news. Saladin was old, older than King Richard, and like the English King, was war weary.

The gang and the King's guard amused themselves with shooting contests. They were impressed by this little gang of country peasants, and especially impressed by the talents of the women, Lady Marian and the little Saracen woman. They were not as good as the  _ men _ , of course. But they could hold their own. Lady Marian had stood up to die for the King. And had not Djaq attended to their King's wounds as well as any man?

The men of the guard tried to flirt with Lady Marian despite, or perhaps because of her married status (Djaq being of little interest in the shadow of a real English Lady, much to her own relief), but could never seem to get near her. She was always surrounded by one or two of Robin's men. Usually Much, whom they liked, and Little John, now stood by Robin's bride. By the time they noticed Djaq's feminine form, she was protected, always by the quiet one, called Will Scarlett. The King's men grumbled when the ex-outlaws were not around, but did not want to challenge them. Peace meant going home for them as well.

Finally, about a week after the last three deaths, King Richard, Robin of Locksley, and Humphrey IV of Toron, who had been acting as translator, returned with good news. The peace treaty was signed. Christians were once again allowed in Jerusalem. The late Popes Gregory VIII and Clement III, and the current Pope Celestine III would be satisfied. Christian pilgrims would be allowed into the Holy City without a single drop of blood being spilled there on this crusade. God be praised!

Best news of all, they were to leave for the coast in the morning.

All but one ship would sail directly to England (the few French would separate from them in the Channel). The King and his select party, including Robin and his men, would first stop in the Papal States, delivering the good news, before continuing on their voyage. They would take the prisoner with them.

This, of course, called for feasting. The men, quite proficient at "women's chores," took turns cooking and packing, and that evening after the cruel sun had set on their camp for the last time, they feasted and celebrated. Stories were told, songs were sung, tears were shed. There was dancing, and Marian was sure that her feet hardly touched the ground and was never in want for a partner (Djaq did not know the steps and was soon forgotten again). It was dawn before she and her groom were allowed to go to their tent.

o0O0o

Lady Marian of Locksley was sitting on the cot next to her sleeping husband. Robin was having another nightmare. Their first week in the same bed had been tender and loving, Marian could not understand why he was having nightmares now.

They had started the first night on the ship, the _ Nymue _ , where they were now. She looked around the small bare cabin. There was not much in it; their bed with a straw mattress, some pale yellow material that she managed to obtain to make some articles of clothing for herself, the chamber-pot, and the thin blankets that Robin had kicked to the floor in the throes of his nightmare.

He woke suddenly, anxious and sweating. Marian still didn't touch him; he needed to focus on his surroundings first. That was a mistake she had made the first night. He did not recognize her and perceived her as a threat. That was the closest he ever came to hitting her.

"Robin, everything is fine now," she said gently, pushing back a lock of damp hair from his forehead.

He relaxed slightly at her touch and whispered, "I did not hurt you, did I?"

"No, of course not. I woke up before."

He sighed in relief. She took him in her arms and guided his head to her breast. "Tonight was horrible. Will you tell me what happened?"

"Someday." She was tired of this answer. It was the answer he gave her every night since the nightmares began.

"Robin, you cannot shut me out. Please."

He sighed. Robin had found comfort in his bride's embrace, but she was right. This secret he was keeping from her would be too much for him to carry alone. And she was strong. She could handle it. But it was not only fear that kept him silent all this week. It was pride. He was Robin of Locksley. Surely he should not be having nightmares. He was stronger than this. Though perhaps it had nothing to do with strength… after all, Much had the same dreams he did….

After a few moments, he said quietly, "I am sorry Marian. I just…" he trailed off, searching for words. She was patient, drawing circles on his back with her fingertips. "I watch myself in battle. And I do not like what I see. It scares me that there is so much blood on my hands."

"But Robin, it was a Holy War," she said, in an attempt to comfort him.

He laughed cynically. "Do you believe that any amount of killing can be holy? No. I do not. Not anymore. Pope Gregory was wrong. Pope Celestine is wrong. God could not possibly want so much death."

Marian slid her hands up his back and down his arms to his hands. She brought them to her lips and kissed his palms gently. "I do not taste any blood, Robin. You did what you thought was right. The blame does not fall to you."

He was silent for a few moments, and then said haltingly, "That is not all I dream of. I dream…" he swallowed, steeling his nerves, "I dream that you leave me. That you are… dead."

Marian embraced him again. He positioned his head so he could hear her heart beat. "I am not, Robin. I am alive, and quite well."

"I know. I know."

"And this will get better. Time heals all wounds. We will be happy together. I love you. And I know you love me. Your heart is hurting, but it will heal." She spoke softly, gently. Robin was finally truly relaxing, and beginning to enjoy where he was resting his head. He kissed her warm skin.

She laughed, low in her throat. "Do you think that is going to help you?"

"Yes." he muttered, making his way up to her lips.

She laughed again while he was kissing her neck. "I think so too…."

o0O0o

Robin and Much were on the deck of the ship, talking about their experiences in battle. In the few days since he had opened up to Marian, Robin had been honest with Much. Robin's physical battle had ended. Now he and Much would have to battle internal demons. Already the nightmares were improving. Marian sat a ways away, sewing a dress, the white one that she was wearing was beyond recognition. And she felt that if they were going to the Vatican, she should have something to wear that was at the very least clean.

Little John was down in the cabins, seasick again. She tried to convince him that the best cure was to be up on deck, in the fresh salt air, but he refused. Will Scarlett and Djaq were at the stern, watching the dolphins play in the wake the vessel left behind. They talked and flirted, and though Marian had no idea as to their exact words, she knew that they had found themselves in each other.

The sun was warm on her skin, though not in a horrible, heavy sort of way like in the desert. It was pleasant and soft. The pitch and roll of the  _ Nymue _ was gently rocking her, comforting her, though she knew it must be tormenting poor John in the cabin that he shared with Will and Much.

She looked over and saw Will taking Djaq's hand, and they made their way over to where Robin and Much were sitting at the bow. Marian, at mid-ship, picked up her sewing and approached the group.

"…would please marry us," Will asked Robin as she reached them.

The pair was flushed and happy. Robin looked slightly surprised, but pleased nonetheless. Much was laughing, looking years younger.

"What is so funny, Much? I thought you did not approve of us splitting into couples," Marian teased.

"It is not funny, so much as it is… perfect."

Robin laughed at his friend, and then said to Will and Djaq, "Of course I'll marry you. Whenever you want."

"Today," said Djaq. "Between our homelands."

"That is fitting," said Robin, getting up. "Someone go get Little John, he should be here, and King Richard."

Marian took Djaq's hand. "Let's go see if we can find anything special for you to wear."

Djaq looked up and joked, "Perhaps a sail?"

Marian laughed and pulled her down to the cabin that she shared with Robin.

o0O0o

In the end, Marian decided that the Pope would have to live with her travel stained dress. It was more important for Djaq to have a nice dress for her wedding. After all, Marian's dress was (almost) new when she married Robin in it. It was not new anymore, perhaps…. Anyway the soft yellow fabric looked better with Djaq's complexion than Marian's. It was decided that Little John (who was feeling better since arriving on the deck) would give her away and Much and Marian would be witnesses. The King and his trusted inner circle would merely be guests.

It was a happy wedding, if unconventional. But the bride and groom were unconventional, so it hardly mattered. The sun was setting, the light dancing across the water. Robin blessed them and their union, tactfully trying to avoid mentions of God, unless he mentioned Allah as well. Will and Djaq were shining almost brighter than the sun in their happiness.

Their vows were simple, their kiss heartbreakingly sweet. Marian was in tears, earning her a strange look from Robin.

The night was spent feasting and dancing, though unlike the celebrations in the Holy Land. Marian was allowed to dance with her husband, and the others took interest in the bride. In the end, however, no one noticed when Will and Djaq slipped quietly down into her cabin.

Marian and Robin were still up when the sun began to rise. The stood at the stern, watching it as it seemingly came out of the sea. They were wrapped up in each other's arms, content, as the  _ Nymue _ gently rocked beneath them.

"You were crying."

"When?" asked Marian.

"At the wedding."

"Oh. Well, I did not cry at ours. Ours was too sad to cry at."

"So you cry when you are happy?" Robin asked, thoroughly confused.

"Sometimes. Robin, tears are difficult to control. Sometimes I cry when I should not, sometimes I do not cry where I should."

"I do not think I will ever understand you."

"And I will never understand you, Robin. I only ask that you love me."

"I do. Do you love me?"

"Robin, how many times are we going to say our vows?"

He laughed, but merely asked her again.

"I do. As you well know."

"Good. And since you asked how many times we must say our vows, I do not think we should ever stop.'

"I think that it would be a bit tedious after a while…"

"Well once the novelty wears off, maybe. But I do still want to stand up with you in Locksley. How does that suit you?"

Marian thought for a moment, and then laughed, "Robin of Locksley, you just want to feed your villagers."

"Well I would feed yours too, since you inherited Knighton Hall."

"In that case, yes, I will marry you, again. As soon as we return to Locksley. And I make a new dress."

"What is wrong with this one?"

"Robin, you cannot be serious? It is old and stained."

Robin looked at it, noticing for the first time how worn his wife's wedding gown had become. "I suppose we can get some fabric in the Vatican…."

"When do you think we will arrive there?"

"Well, we have been sailing along the coast for a long time now. We will have to sail up the Tiber River, so perhaps tomorrow, or the day after."

Marian burrowed into her husband's neck. "So long? We shall have to find a way to keep us occupied…."

The sun had fully risen when Robin swept up his wife and carried her across the threshold to their cabin.


	3. Chapter 3

It was raining. Robin had pictured the eternal city of Rome to be full of ancient light, shining. Instead, it reminded him of England; raining and cloudy, but without the familiar feeling of home. He, King Richard, and Much made their way to Vatican City in a closed carriage. Little John and Will were taking Marian and Djaq to Rome to get supplies, the rest of the King's guard were still on board the  _ Nymue _ , guarding the sheriff.

St. Peter's was not exactly how he had pictured it, nor was the Papal Palace. He was picturing something… grander. However they were old buildings, dank and dark. Chances are, they would be rebuilt someday. The trio left their weapons in the carriage, they would not need them inside. Much and Robin wore rags, only the King had clean clothes.

Pope Celestine was a hobbled, twisted old man, sitting proudly on his Papal Throne, surrounded by his celibate court of holy men. His hat looked ridiculous on his bald head. The three bowed, King Richard in the middle, Much and Robin flanked him.

"Welcome back, King Richard of England. Rise, and tell me, what news do you bring?" He spoke in Latin, but unbeknownst to him, Robin could understand his words.

"Your Holiness, Christian pilgrims are again allowed into the Holy City, without a single drop of blood shed there," King Richard replied in the same manner.

"Is this possible?"

"Yes, sire."

"Hmmm. How did you manage this?"

"Robin of Locksley. His name demands respect, even thousands of miles from home. The Turks recognized him. Negotiations went smoothly. Saladin was as war weary as I."

"Robin of Locksley? What about Duke Leopold?"

"Duke Leopold? Of Austria?" asked the King, confused. "What did he have to do with this?"

"He returned from the Holy Land before you did."

Much was lost in the Latin, he only knew enough to stumble along in Mass; Robin was struggling to understand the politics of the situation. Clearly, the Bishop of Rome was not as pleased as they thought he would be.

"Yes, he left before Robin and his party arrived."

"He told me that he did much of the fighting and that you planned on taking all of the credit. I see now he was wrong. You plan on crediting your young vassal as well. Tell me, what does he do for you that wins your affection?"

The King was getting desperate now, and angry. Neither Robin nor Much knew how to diffuse the situation. These types of politics were out of their league.

"My Lord, I do not understand what is going on here."

"What is to understand? I am arresting you and your little Robin of Locksley in the name of Duke Leopold V."

"Much, run." Robin spoke quietly underneath King Richard's loud Latin protests. Pope Celestine's guards began to file in.

"But Master-"

"Go!"

In the confusion and the fight King Richard and Robin put up, Much managed to slip out, unnoticed.

o0O0o

Much watched through a window as the guards dragged Robin and King Richard out of the Pope's sight and down a hallway. He followed them as best he could. Finally they threw them into a dungeon cell and left them. Fortunately there were bars that showed the outside world. When Much ascertained that the guards had left, he whispered through the bars.

"King Richard! Master!"

They came to the bars.

"Much, do not call me master. And I thought I told you to run."

"I don't call you master, I won't follow orders. Besides, I did run."

"Stop arguing. Much, do you think you can get us out of here?" demanded the King.

"Sorry my Lord, I don't think I can. Perhaps if I got the others?"

King Richard held up his hand for silence and cast around the cell, looking for a way out. "Clearly Pope Celestine III is not our friend as we once thought. Much, please get the rest of your gang, and if they are willing to help Robin and me escape, I would be most grateful. But it is not safe for our prisoner here. If you do intend to help us escape, tell those aboard the  _ Nymue _ to set sail for Bordeaux, in Aquitaine. We will meet them there." He looked to Robin, to see if he agreed.

Robin nodded, and then said to Much, "Whatever happens, make sure Marian is on the  _ Nymue _ . I do not want her in further danger."

"Yes, of course. We will be back," said Much, fleeing into the shadows of the Papal buildings.

o0O0o

Much managed to convince the guards that drove him and Robin there to drive him back to the  _ Nymue _ . It was difficult, given that he had to pantomime it. He arrived at the dock at the same time as the others. He signaled Little John to help him take down the two men driving the horses, and upon accomplishing that, related the whole story.

"What is the plan, Much?" Marian asked him.

"Well, Robin wants you aboard the vessel; he does not want you in any danger."

Marian scoffed and said, "That is ridiculous. I am with you."

"I was hoping you would say that. I have a plan, and it will only work with someone who speaks French and Latin."

"What is this plan?" asked Little John, anxious to get underway.

Much turned on Djaq, "Do you have any black powder?"

o0O0o

Much cast his eyes about the carriage. So far, everything was going according to plan. Of course, the plan had yet to be set in motion. Still, they were off to a good start! The captain of the  _ Nymue _ had agreed to meet them in Bordeaux, and the King's guard had agreed to keep Vaisey in their custody. Will and Djaq were inside the carriage with him. Fortunately, the carriage could comfortably seat six. Their scant luggage and supplies were packed on the roof and covered with a tarp. Their weapons were at hand, but hopefully they would not need them. Marian and Little John were driving, dressed as Papal Guards; Marian ready to talk their way into the Vatican. Little John made an unconvincing guard, as his robes were too small. But there was something to be said for brute strength.

Yes. Everything was going according to plan.

The carriage stopped, and heard a man call to Marian and Little John in French. Marian called back, masking her voice by making it deeper. It was unconvincing, but the Papal Guard accepted her on the grounds that her French was flawless. Much directed Little John where to go from the window in the carriage.

They pulled up without incident to the dungeons. Will and Little John scurried to one end of the ally, Marian and Djaq went to the other, to keep watch. Djaq went to the bars.

"Stand back, but be ready to run. So far we have been undetected, but once the black powder goes off, it will give away our position."

"Black powder?" asked the King.

"Yes. Better do what she says," Robin asked, backing into a corner.

Djaq lit the fuse and ran for the carriage. The others ran for it too, Marian and Little John ducked on the other side of the vehicle just in time. The charge went off, the sound echoing through the Holy City. Before the smoke had cleared, King Richard and Robin escaped and leapt inside the carriage; Little John was driving the horses, which were crazed with fear. Marian was next to him, holding on for dear life.

They blended in quite nicely in the confusion and panic that the black powder left behind. No one looked twice their way. In this manner, they left Vatican City, following the four possessed horses and leaving disorder in their wake.

The carriage followed a rough road out of Rome, Marian had gotten directions earlier and relayed them to Little John. The group was surprised that they got away so cleanly, but supposed it must have been the shock of black powder.

Finally, they stopped and got out to stretch their legs and water the horses in a nearby stream. Robin, who had not noticed Marian in the escape and assumed she was on board the  _ Nymue _ , caught sight of his bride leading two horses to the stream. He took the reigns for the other two from Little John and sped towards her.

"I thought I told Much to tell you to stay on board the  _ Nymue _ ," he said, anger simmering near the surface.

"He did."

"And yet you thought it fit to accompany him?"

"Yes. He needed someone who could speak French or Latin to get them into the City. That, and I did not wish to be aboard our honeymoon vessel alone."

"You would not have been alone, the King's guard-"

"The King's guard may be loyal to the King, but they do not mind who I am loyal to. They have not seen an English woman in years, Robin. In either case, I would have been in danger. And quite frankly, I would rather be in danger with you."

Robin sighed. Any anger he had dissipated. "I was just trying to protect you."

She bestowed a smile on him. "I know, Robin. But I have been in danger before."

"We are not out of danger yet. We could still be excommunicated. Or tried for heresy."

"Do not be ridiculous. The Pope will not admit his mistake to Europe. He will blame someone else, not us."

King Richard approached the two, who were now holding hands like a courting couple.

"Is there anyway to reward Much? He saved us, just now. And a coach from the Vatican will go far without being harmed. As long as we stay ahead of his messengers."

Robin smiled. "When we were in the Holy Lands, after I began to recover from my fever, I promised him the Lordship and the living of Bonchurch. I would like you to make it official."

The King nodded. "That will be adequate. He deserves more, though. His foresight was wonderful. I would have never thought of this plan, I would be going through diplomatic channels."

"And we would still be imprisoned," said Robin.

The King turned to Marian and said in French, his native tongue, "Thank you for speaking my mother's language so beautifully. I fear I owe you once again for my life, but I cannot think of how to repay you."

Marian responded in kind, "You are most welcome, my Lord. Your gratitude is enough."

King Richard the Lion-heart laughed and said in English, "Robin, surely there is someway I can repay your wife?"

"I can think of something," he said. Marian looked at him, her head cocked in confusion. "We plan on standing up together in Locksley. Would you give the bride away? She has no male relatives."

"I would be honored, Lady Marian," the King said, bowing to her. "Now, we must find your Much and inform him of his new estate."


	4. Chapter 4

Much was made the Lord of Bonchurch right there by the little stream north of Rome, surrounded by his dearest friends. They would have celebrated there, but unfortunately they feared the Pope's messengers and began their journey again. Little John and Much rode up front, driving the horses and in the ill-fitting guards' clothes. It looked comical, but passable.

They rode through the hills of Tuscany, avoiding the main cities of Florence and Pisa. King Richard doubted a royal welcome in the house of the pious Medicis, of the Royal House of Florence, Rulers of Tuscany. The drove through the night, fearing no highwayman. Their only fears were the true guards of the Pope. They took turns driving the horses, stopping to rest the them as often as they dared.

Sometimes they would go to market day in small, out of the way villages, little towns perched precariously on hillsides. Two or three of them would dress as religious pilgrims, dirty, hungry, and quoting the Bible. They usually bought from the poorest venders, Robin continuing his charitable work of giving to them.

Finally, after days had turned into weeks, they reached the seaport of Genoa, in the Liguria province. Much and Marian went off in search of food and other supplies, Little John, Will, and Djaq, the most conspicuous, stayed off the road outside the city with the carriage and the horses. King Richard and Robin, disguised from their noble status as simple crusaders went in search of a boat and someone to sail them to Marseilles, having no desire to cross the Alps in the carriage.

Finally they found a suitable vessel, owned by Cosimo di' Liguria, who fortunately spoke passable French. They paid half of his price then, and made their way back to the carriage.

Marian and Much were there, looking happy, and Marian slightly smug. The King and Robin approached and asked what news they had.

Marian spoke. "The Pope is not pursuing us. He has excommunicated Duke Leopold of Austria, on the grounds of trying to arrest a fellow crusader."

"But the Pope is the one that arrested us!" Robin said, confused.

"Robin, this Pope is arrogant and cruel. Not holy. Tell me you noticed," said the King.

"I had, but why would he excommunicate the Duke of Austria?"

"Because he can hardly afford to offend me further. England is far more powerful than Austria."

"What is excommunicate?" asked Djaq, incredibly confused.

"It's when someone is banned from the Church community," Will told her. "It guarantees your ticket to Hell."

Djaq laughed, and the Christian members of the party turned to stare at her.

"You do not think it is a little ridiculous, that an old man far away can tell you where you will go after you die?"

Much spoke for all of them, "Well maybe, but it is best not to take chances."

o0O0o

The Mediterranean Sea was calm during the week and a half they were being ferried to Marseille. Cosimo and his crew were a merry bunch that left the party alone. Marian spent her time hiding the new dress she was sewing from Robin and teaching the gang useful phrases in French.

King Richard was getting more and more excited the closer he got to Aquitaine. He could often be found at the bow, singing French lullabies off key under his breath. He had much to be happy about. King Richard again had a grasp on the political situation of the Christian world. He was going home, then to London it was true, but then back home again. The Pope was trying to get on his good side, which meant even more power for him. More power politically would mean Prince John would be easier to control.

The coastline of Provence was very beautiful. Little John had finally taken the others' advice and spent as much time as possible on deck, and therefore less time being seasick. He had taken to standing at the bow of the ship in silence next to the King, gazing at the shoreline. Will and Djaq almost always sat near the stern, giggling. Much, Robin, and Marian often relived their exploits as playmates in Nottingham.

The time passed quickly, and they arrived on French soil. They were near enough to Aquitaine, and with the Pope no longer after them, they felt safer. King Richard hired two carriages. He, Lord Much, and Little John rode in one, the two honeymoon couples were taken in another.

The ride was much more comfortable than the last one. They kept to main roads, instead of rutted, back country ones. The group could stop and stay in inns along the way. They did not have to change drivers, or worry about the horses, and the two carriages were considerably better for morale. In this way, they made their way to the home of Eleanor of Aquitaine.

o0O0o

The very first light of July dawned bright and clear. Djaq woke up in her husband's arms, in their own room in a local inn. She stretched cat-like over the featherbed mattress. A mattress! Such luxury! She felt like a queen, lying next to her lover. A lover with morning breath, but hers, nonetheless.

She poked him, and he woke with a start. She giggled and burrowed into him.

"Djaq… are you… giddy?" he asked, disbelief evident in the early morning sun.

"Yes," she said, from somewhere near his heart.

"I don't think I've ever seen you giddy."

"Well, I have never been married before. And we are returning home."

His heart warmed to hear her talk of England as home. Though truth be told, home to him was wherever she was.

"This has been adventurous. I am looking forward to settling down with you."

"In Locksley?" she asked him, her dark eyes mirrored his own brown ones.

"Yes, unless you would prefer someplace else."

She burrowed back into him. "No. Perhaps Luke will come home?"

Again she caught him off guard. Of course he would love if his brother returned. She knew him so well. "If you would not mind?"

"Of course not. You are brothers."

The word brother caught in her throat. He gathered her in tightly. He knew she wouldn't cry, but the absence of her brother from her life hurt her more deeply than she would ever let on. She had many demons; the loss of him and her father, being sold into slavery, and forced to leave her homeland. These were things that Will did not feel capable of dealing with. He did not like facing his own father's death. But he would try, for her. Anything for her. He kissed her, determined to bring her comfort. She pressed her body to him, determined to take it.

Before they could get too carried away with each other, there was a knock on the door. Little John's gruff voice came through the measly wooden barrier, "We leave in ten minute's time."

Djaq heard Will mutter, "Typical."

Laughing, she called to the older man, "Yes, Little John. We will be out soon."

o0O0o

The lush, summertime countryside of Aquitaine rolled by the carriage windows. The beautiful trees bent down over clear streams. It was picturesque and beautiful. Often, they heard the King and Much singing out with their horrible voices. It kept the mood light, and those in the second carriage giddy. King Richard was planning on staying for a week in Bordeaux, giving them time to rest. The others readily agreed to this plan, happy to have a week to stand still before feeling the pitch and roll of the  _ Nymue _ beneath them again.

Eleanor of Aquitaine, the Queen Mum, met the weary travelers on the stone steps of her castle with open arms. After the appropriate formalities, she personally led them all to their rooms. She seemed to anticipate the two couples, having prepared the correct number of rooms. To Little John's great despair, she continued to drop not so subtle hints as to where her apartments were located.

She thanked Robin, and all the others. She also informed them that the  _ Nymue _ was in port, and had been for quite sometime. The crew and the guard were quartered in the castle, Vaisey was safely in the dungeon. This, she explained, was how she knew how many rooms to prepare, throwing knowing looks to the honeymooning couples. Turning on her heal, she announced that dinner would be served at seven and that they all had fresh bathwater waiting for them.

And so the week passed quite pleasantly. They meandered up and down the corridors, playing each other at tennis or chess, read from the extensive collection of books that Eleanor had collected. Marian was in heaven. She almost wished they could linger long enough for her to read all fifty.

The Queen, for her part, was an excellent hostess. She managed to make them all feel quite welcome, despite their recent tribulation as outlaws in Sherwood Forest. She provided them with excellent food, new clothes embroidered by herself and her ladies, and cheerful entertainment. Her fools and jesters had their stomachs aching with laughter, her troubadours composed songs of their apparent valor and courage. Poor Much blushed so hard at his verses that his head almost burst into flames.

Alas, all good things must come to an end. A week after Queen Eleanor's hospitality, they were on their way again. She waved them off, and down the Garonne River, whose banks were lined with people to see the sight. The  _ Nymue _ was a magnificent sight to see, with new sails, and bright and gay flying flags from the highest masts. The Queen herself was there, to see her handsome son off on his journey. Two Lords and a Lady from far away England accompanied the King, across the sea that divided his country.


	5. Epilogue

The small church was packed with villagers, from all over Nottinghamshire, scrubbed clean to their ears and out in their finest. They were not the only guests. Many lords and ladies, all loyal to King Richard and in some way helpful to Robin and his old gang were also made welcome. It was standing room only. The kindly old priest, Father Tuck, was not at all surprised to see so many people there. If it had been any other lord, it would have only been because of the Bridal Breakfast to follow the wedding. But this was Robin Hood, the Earl of Huntington, and his bonny bride, Lady Marian of Knighton Hall, otherwise known as the Nightwatchman.

Talk of the devil, Robin was already standing at the altar, fidgeting worse than the newly elevated Lord Much of Bonchurch. The benevolent priest laid his hand on Robin's shoulder. "You are already married, my son. This is a mere formality. And it was your idea. Please relax, you are making  _ me _ nervous."

Robin smiled at him, and said, "I am sorry, Father. I did not anticipate being this anxious."

The good father laughed. "No bridegroom ever does."

The church doors were throne in, flooding it with light. Whether it was from the new August sun or his glowing bride, Robin could not be sure. She was clad in a soft mossy green dress, trimmed in lace that he recognized as a gift from Queen Eleanor. She reminded him of sea-foam, lightly floating about the seas. His own personal Venus. She was dancing with impatience down the aisle of the Church, the King supporting her, but also anchoring her, trying to keep her from floating away.

Neither Robin nor Marian remembered anything from this second wedding, only that it was a joy filled celebration. They were surrounded by their dearest friends, probably for the last time. The King was going to London, and then home to Aquitaine. Little John had surprised them all by announcing his intention to go with the King, back to France.

Will and Djaq Scarlett were already starting their family. Djaq had a dream to be the Shire's most trusted midwife, and gain from her own personal experience in a few months time. Will of course had already begun to carry on his father's excellent carpentry legacy. His brother, Luke Scarlett, was expected to arrive sometime next year, giving the new couple time to be alone in their honeymoon period and to have their baby.

Much already held Bonchurch, and the King had surprised him yesterday by making him the Sheriff of Nottingham. Richard the Lion-Heart declared he needed someone he could trust keeping an eye on Prince John in London; and of course, on the famous Robin Hood and the Nightwatchman. Sheriff Much, the loyal chivalrous soul he was, had begun to court Eve.

Things had not turned out as Robin had thought, and yet, they had. The villain, Vaisey, was on trial in France. Robin was married to the love of his life. His best friend and companion had come into great fortune. Little John was no longer lonely, again having a Lord, Master, and King to serve. Allan-A-Dale, always the wild ball, had found peace. And he was not alone in his wedded bliss, Will and Djaq were starting on a matrimonial adventure as well.

Because for the merry gang of Robin Hood, Earl of Locksley, how could life seem to be anything but an adventure?


End file.
